


Too Late

by nuuuge



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-02
Updated: 2014-12-02
Packaged: 2018-02-27 20:28:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2705660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nuuuge/pseuds/nuuuge
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Today we are assembled here due to unfortunate circumstances…” The principal stopped talking for a moment, eyes raking over the student body, all of them looking confused. All of them had thought this was a simple morning assembly, a normal Monday morning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Too Late

**Author's Note:**

> This was written a while ago on my tumblr. I just felt like putting it here.  
> THANKS xxxx

“Today we are assembled here due to unfortunate circumstances…” The principal stopped talking for a moment, eyes raking over the student body, all of them looking confused. All of them had thought this was a simple morning assembly, a normal Monday morning.

Harry Styles sat by his friends, grinning from ear to ear, barely listening to the principle, punching Nick in the arm, only to have the taller teen retaliate with a harder punch, neither boy backing down.

Someone shushed them when their giggles got too loud, but they ignored it and kept going. Fuck the world, their motto was easy to understand. They were the kings, the ones who ruled the school and neither of them gave one shit about this assembly.

That was until a power point started up and the large picture of a bright blonde boy came up. Eyes blue, shining happily, braces adorning crooked teeth, skin perfect, not a single blemish.

Harry stopped what he was doing, mouth gaping open at the sight of the pretty boy, so happy and confident in the picture. Harry just had to know who he was, there was something about the boy in the picture that intruiged him, if it was the beauty of the carefree smile, he would never know. But he was breathtaking.

“Who…?” Harry didn’t finish because the next words stopped his breath, made everything stop.

A few rows back, sitting in his char, leather jacket over his broad shoulders, small giggling blonde under his arm, sat Zayn Malik, the bad boy, the one who secretly loved art, but wouldn’t ever tell anyone that. He fucked around, drank, smoked weed behind the school bleachers, every stereotype of a bad boy fit him.

He rode on an old motorcycle he’d fixed up himself, being quite good with an engine when he needed to be.

Perrie giggled dumbly, having smoked an entire blunt just before getting to school. Her face was red, eyes bloodshot and pupils dilated. They all sat together and just hung around, no one really talking, too stoned to really notice what was going on.

Zayn hadn’t smoked that morning due to his mother rushing into his room, ranting about… something, hence why he was dreadfully sitting through the entire assembly completely sober.

The picture of the blonde was large, displayed to everyone, showing a smiling face, something Zayn never got to notice. He just saw him frown, cringe away in fear of another blow. Never did Zayn see him smile with such a bright breathtaking grin, something so carefree… Zayn wished he could have without the help of drugs.

“The hell?” He whispered, sitting up a little, letting go of Perrie who didn’t even notice, only sliding down in her seat and closing her eyes.

The next words shocked the older boy, making his hazel eyes widen, guilt sweeping over him, eating at him, clenching his gut together with pure agonizing pain. Never had he felt like this, he’d never cared, but that smile could get anyone to like the blonde, even if it was merely on a screen on a picture.

Regret was the biggest issue. Regret for his past and everything that had happened. Louis wished he’d talked, had done something, hadn’t just stood by, afraid and scared. Louis wished he’d been strong. Strong like Liam.

Poor Liam, who stood up on that stage, tears running down his rosy cheeks, hands running through his shaved head over and over again, stumbling over a speech he’d written, mumbling into the microphone, no one listening, all looking on in pure shock at the picture displayed there for the entire school to see.

Such a brilliant smile, perfect cheek bones, perfect cheeks.

Liam couldn’t believe it, didn’t know how it had happened, how one day he’d been fine, laughing and playing footie, rushing through the streets on his skateboard. All the laughter, the smiles, everything was so fake, so wrong and only now could Liam tell.

He hated himself, all those times Niall tried to reach out, tried to tell him and he just brushed him off. Brushed his problems off. It killed him, made him regret everything. If only he’d been a better friend, had listened and believed his eyes.

There had been all the signs, the hidden frowns, the fake smiles, the brave look in those bright blue eyes. Niall had hidden it so well, too well and now… Liam couldn’t even finish the train of thought. He didn’t want to. He just wanted to curl up and cry.

Niall had hated this place, had said so on many occasions. These people, their blank faces staring at his smiling face, a face so perfect that none of them had ever got to witness due to their thick headed behavior.

A smile could change everything… a single smile.

Harry felt sick, felt completely lost for a second. How could someone so… carefree just… just die? Just leave… it wasn’t right. That boy was too young, looked like he had way too much of a future and now he was gone.

Harry never got a chance to hear the cackle, the wonderful sound of his infectious laughter. Harry never got to witness a ‘Horan-hug’ nor be educated in the importance of low level football teams. He never got to know Niall and just seeing the picture of that bright smiling boy made Harry’s heart clench and made him want to puke.

Zayn couldn’t believe he’d killed someone. He had done it, driven someone to their death. He had made Niall kill himself, made him think there was no other way out. All those days Zayn laughted and tortured him now came back…

The day that Niall begged him not to hit him, begged for a day of freedom and Zayn had merely spat at the smaller blonde boy, kicked him in the ribs before hauling him off his feet and then punching the boy square in the face. Zayn remembered the feeling of the bone cracking under his knuckles, how satisfied he’d been.

What had the older boy done? He’d killed someone and he would never be able to atone for this. He’d driven this boy to death, made him feel so trapped with only one emergency exit, something Zayn never thought could happen.

The bright smiling boy on that picture was someone the tan boy never got to see, never got to know, because he judged a book by it’s cover and hated the boy from day one. He couldn’t tell you why he hated him, only knew he had to get his hands on that perfectly bright skin and mark it, leave his bruises behind, show everyone how imperfect the boy was.

He was his doom, no one wanted to befriend the blonde because of him, because of his actions. Zayn Malik… murderer.

Louis wished he’d spoken up, had taken some slack and just stayed by Niall. They’d been friends in junior high, then Niall became the target and Louis left, saving himself from the ridicule of others. Why hadn’t he stayed?

He missed so much, always watching from afar as Liam and Niall walked the halls, walked passed his house. Louis wanted so badly to walk over, talk to them, become their friend once more and get to know them all over again, but he hadn’t.

He merely stayed in his room, stayed silent and hidden behind the masks he wore. The mask of the confident theater guy, the one who wasn’t ever afraid of the stage, but he had been terrified of the most important stage, the one of his own life. He had lost everything now.

Niall had been his everything. Louis knew his whole schedule, knew where he’d be and when and he followed Niall, hoping that one day he would get the courage to stand up for him, but that day never came and it was too late.

Niall was gone, dead, nothing but a fading memory.

The assembly ended and all students piled out, subdued and quiet.

Liam stayed back, still standing at the podium where he’d talked, tears rolling down onto the badly written speech. None of the words he’d got down were right, none of them managed to explain Niall the way the teen wanted to. Niall was too perfect for words.

He’d been bullied, beaten and put under pressure all his life and he still managed to smile so brightly for pictures. Liam wished he’d had the same strength as Niall and now Niall was gone, his only friend, the one who he depended on was dead.

“Liam…?” Louis walked over, looking thin and sickly. Liam didn’t blame him.

Liam had noticed Louis following Niall around like a lost puppy and everyday, Liam hoped that Louis had finally gotten the courage to stand up for the smaller boy, but Niall always turned up with a new black eye a new bruise. Every time, Niall would grin and shrug Liam off, saying that ‘it felt great’.

Niall was a fighter, but none of them had seen the pain, seen the way Niall was slowly crumbling, hiding the pain away. A few desperate signs were there, the times Niall had called Liam at night, had begged him to make it stop, but Liam was useless.

“How…?” Louis whispered, tears also rushing down his pale complexion, hugging his arms around his midsection.

Harry and Zayn stood on opposite sides of the gym, looking on as the two boys embraced, wanting to go and give their condolences to the crying boy who had delivered a terribly tear stained speech before, wanted to somehow make up for lost time.

“Liam…?” Louis whimpered, breaking down, sobbing and gripping onto the buff teen, both holding onto one another, holding themselves together in this moment.

“Louis…” Liam knew Louis had loved Niall, had never told him and maybe if he had, Niall would still be with them, wouldn’t be dead in his room, having hung himself from the ceiling. Maybe then Liam wouldn’t have found him Saturday morning…

“ _We were too late_.”


End file.
